oy vey

i just did a search for lostprophets on google and photos i took come up, which is cool. BUT they are from the early days of planet verge, when i did not put photo credit on the pictures. so therefore, all our pictures are all over the place, and we get no credit. and that makes me sad cause we work soooo hard on everything. that's a big reason why i took down the photo gallery on planetverge.com. now all our pictures are small and have photo credit on them. which is both good and bad. oh well. here's to our popular pictures. cheers!

*joelle

my beef with the stone pony

The Stone Pony is probably the most famous little rock club on the Jersey shore. So much in fact, that major label bands make stops on their tour there. And with that comes press. Photographers. IE--- professional (or some who think they are) picture takers who are getting paid (if they're lucky) for their work. People who are not the slutty fans in the front row with cameras and stalking the band outside afterwords asking them to sign their tits.

Usually, venues have a designated photo area in front of the stage set aside for the photo pass privileged so they can work and not have to battle fans getting in the way. Not the Stone Pony. Not only do they never seem to set up barriers, they never even have physical photo passes to give press.

This caused a problem for me when I went to shoot Eighteen Visions and Lostprophets a few months ago there. But luckily, 18 V's crew totally accomidated me and both bands pretty much let me shoot as much as I wanted (not the standard three songs and you're out rule). We have a mutual love. haha

I wasn't as fortunate when I went to go see Kill Hannah at the Pony this week. The band hit the stage the second I walked in, so I didn't even have time to go to the merch table to track down a tour manager to get escorted to stage. But I shouldn't have to do that anyway and it's a major annoyance. So with no real photo pass, or fuel to argue with security to get let up on the stage, I settled for not being able to take pictures. I did manage to shoot some video footage, though.

This was my first time seeing Kill Hannah and I can't wait to see them again. They had a great stage presence, which was even brought up a notch once the guitars started shooting out green lazer light. It really helped accentuate the atmosphere and accent the music.

Vocalist, Mat Devine, called Asbury Park the most beatiful and depressing city. He then thanked fans for putting on their bullet-proof jackets to come out. At least he made a joke of it. Word is that the Pink Spiders totally dissed NJ, but I was not present at the time of their set to confirm.

So I left the show wanting more Kill Hannah, another chance to take pictures, and their debut CD. Looks like I'll get the first two when they play Starland Ballroom in March, but as for that CD, I'm still on the hunt!


pixy stix and sweedish fish kisses,
Joelle

To the nice gentleman who let me park my car where I wasn't supposed to:

You rocked my socks (hypothetically, since I wasn't wearing any today), my shoes, my leggings, my dress, my hairtie, my nailpolish, and my plastic ring today.

Thank you very much.

And girls? Pouting always works.

Love,
Jess

How to Avoid Being A Huge Tool

Be literate. Literacy is sexy. Not like this goon, who, despite my page being private, stumbled upon me on myspace and won't leave me be. Check this crap out:


----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: ?
Date: Jan 12 2007 12:33 AM
Sugar CAndy mountain? Thats freaking awesome!!

So I was amused, because most people don't understand the reference. To verify (and wind up disappointed):

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Jessicalmost cares
Date: Jan 11 2007 6:35 PM
Do you know what it refers to?

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: ?
Date: Jan 12 2007 1:38 AM
Not really. I just liked the phrase. I googled it and there's a web site by that name. What does it mean to you?

What the Hell? "What does it mean to you?" I don't do Dr. Phil shit. I hate it when people ask me what I'm feeling for significant things (do I even have feelings? There's a better question), let alone stupid junk like this. In any case:

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Jessicalmost cares
Date: Jan 11 2007 7:47 PM
It's the name of the hypothetical utopia in Orwell's Animal Farm.

And then he tries to sound smart by using the word "allegorical." Unfortunately, in missing the entire point of my one-sentence reply, he does the opposite.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: ?
Date: Jan 12 2007 5:47 AM
OH, I missed high school and never got around to reading it. I'm not much into politics even if it is fiction. Don't really go in for books with the allegorical overtones either. Sounds like a really nice place though. In the book, is it a nice place?

Um, how do you miss all of high school? Unless you're like most of the people who went to mine, it should only take four years (please note that the stabbing that occurred in my high school was the work of an eighteen year old sophomore, and no, I can't even write this stuff). What were you busy doing, sir? Just wondering. Anyway, it was at this point that I began banging my head against my purple and green walls and wishing I had an iron curtain to drop on stupid almost-30-year-olds who try to spit game at me like this.


*By Jess, who, despite doubting a draft reinstatement happening anytime soon, still claims to have flat feet until we're out of Iraq.

Conquer, nah. Dominate, ehh, no. Takeover, bring it.

Early in the year, a friend told me to check out a band he was working with. Usually I don't think to much of a "CHECK OUT THIS BAND!!!" comment that a friend might throw around...but I knew that he has similar music taste, and wouldn't steer me towards something completely crappy. Well, needless to say, what I found, KICKED ASS. Meet the Takeover. (NOTE- This video is not to be shared, its for Planet Verge ONLY...)




Here's a little sneak peak at my article/interview with the guys...

THE TAKEOVER…Are YOU Ready? ‘Cause, this one will take you by surprise.
For Planet Verge
By Amanda Tumulty

“Stop being plain and like everybody else, try and do something different, do something else. Go against the fucking flow.”


It’s a rarity that you find a talented, charismatic yet reserved, fun group of guys that can plain and simply…ROCK. Meet the Takeover from Philadelphia, PA, and made up of 5 of the most talented, driven guys the local music scene has seen in years. There’s Patrick (vocals), Eric (guitars), Jared (beatin’ the drums), Kris (analogs), and Jesse (digitals). It’s not everyday that you find a band that is able to make you move and you don’t even know it, with their hypnotizing sound, you can’t help but dance. I had a chance to talk to the guys after their Club Deep performance in late December, I got a look at what they need to have in the van, what makes them rock, and the struggles that make them rock as hard as they do today.

“Let it go, Dance it up.”

Between the sick synth beats and wailing guitar, the Takeover is a welcome change from the typical and usual “pop-punk” sound. The Takeover’s before show rituals may be somewhat strange, but as it was explained to me, “healthy bathroom habits are essential.” The band makes claim that they are inspired from all kinds of genres and artists, when asked the “stranded on an island with a cd, which one would it be?” question, I heard everything from Bruce Springsteen’s Greatest Hits to any box sets, to good ol’ mixed cd’s, and guitarist Eric manages to slide in that he would have to take Radiohead....



check out www.planetverge.com for the FULL article coming soon...



* Amanda (thanks steve)

the most important piece of advice ever

"I think you always have to do what you set out in life to do, regardless of how successful you are at it. You are successful when you're doing what you want to do. You're not successful if you give up and do something you don't want to do. It's not about how much you make, as much as it is that you actually went for it." -BUTCH WALKER TO PLANET VERGE.

I've been reading this quote a lot lately. I have the issue of Planet Verge we did the Butch Walker tribute in signed by the man himself and hanging above my desk. So it's always there, as if screaming at me. Or it's me screaming at myself.....

The other day I was going through the Planet Verge filing cabinets getting rid of old stuff. I found a whole bunch of letters from our fans, ranging from a girl in Puerto Rico begging me to help make her a star, to people who read about us in Teen People and want to be a part of our team. It feels really good to know that people look up to you. But the ironic thing is, I constantly wonder if I made the right decisions with my life.

I graduated college and instead of getting a real corporate job in a magazine or PR field, dedicated my life to making a movement. Trying to start your own company is not something I reccomend. I get asked advice on how to start a magazine all the time. The first thing I say? Don't do it! Get a real fan base online before even thinking about moving into the print world, spending your life savings and risking financial security in your life because you work a crappy part time job in order to have time to follow your dream.

So here I am. Three years after college. And only now am I finally feeling like "Hey, i'm getting somewhere." But it's not fast enough. And how much longer can I spend living the dream before I need to actually grow up, face the 9-5 world and say "At least I tried?"

It took me those three years after college to come to the conclusion that I DON'T WANT to even do music journalism anymore! It bores me. Bands bore me. Radio bores me. I don't want to be writing about the same thing over and over again. I want to be the one bringing new exciting things to people. Changing the boring way of the world.

As much as I can be a great editor and running things, I thrive being the one behind the scenes. Being part of the band's team, doing PR. Finding the band and bringing them to attention to labels. Making a difference in their careers, while making a name for myself. But once again, this business is all about proving yourself. And I have come so far, yet feel so far away... Maybe this is lack of sleep and not enough Vitamin C in me doing all the talking. But I just go back to that Butch Walker quote and know everything will be ok. I went for it. I had amazing life experiences, met extraordinary people (like Butch), and took chances other people only dream about. So what if I'm broke now? Eventually I'll be able to afford myself and pay off all those credit card bills. lol

So here I am deciding what to do with my life. Go back to school and be a teacher like all the boring, easy way out people? Figure that will give me summer's off and free time to still run a PR company. But really hate it cause I would be wasting so much talent. Or find another, higher paying crappy part-time job with benefits so I can keep striving for my dream and hope my boyfriend hits it rich so I can count on him for support? (DON'T EVER COUNT ON A MAN, Ladies! My momma taught me right with that one. You gotta be strong and independent).

Right now, I think I'm gonna go with the flow. Take one day at a time. Live life today and try not to worry too much about all the tomorrows. Good things come to those who wait, right?

Here's to the dreamers. The ones who start something, support something and don't give in.

*Joelle

The Good, the Bad, and the Over Played...

Something has been digging at me. I understand the whole radio airplay concept and how there's playlists, and music is licensed to said stations to be played a certain number of times on a certain number of playlists, blah, blah blah. I have been hearing tons of great new music on the radio, and I have been hearing some tragic attempts at talent...but, Whatever happened to the whole concept of "leave wanting more" more? Wouldn't that create more buzz for the artist? It certainly has the potential to make the artist and the label more money. Wouldnt that make listeners tune into the radio staion more frequently in hopes of hearing said song???

The other day i was driving to the beach to check out the waves and maybe head out for a surf, I mean, it was 73 degrees in January, and going against my usual mix CD playlist I went for the radio. Flipping around I finally settled on the ghetto, wanna-be-punk, sugar coated pop station of Z100. On my way there I heard Hinder's latest release success "Lips of an Angel" or whatever its called. THEN, after I finished my glorious hour long walk on the beach (the waves sucked) I got back in my car and within 3 minutes, Hinders song was on again. I'm not saying that its a bad song, or that its horrifically overplayed, its just frustrating to me. I would have been more curious about the song, and maybe would have checked it out on itunes or something if i HADN'T heard it 2 times within an hour and a half.

I just want success for those whom are TRULY talented. The music world knows how to destroy dreams, and it knows how to cradle and help develope those few careers that are truly worth venturing into. Radio airplay is ruining some songs for me. Some talented artists are licensing their songs out WAY to much. WAY to much.

Ahh. I feel better now that I got that out.

I hope that everyone is having a wonderful day. The week is making it's way to Friday!


*Amanda (who is totally and completely digging the Colour Revolt EP.)

What I've been pondering this week:

1. Why in God's (or Allah's, or Brahman's, or whichever tickles your fancy) name is Route 18 still under construction?
Seriously. What is the objective and when will it be reached? Getting to South Jersey is absolutely horrifying, and while Joelle will probably say that it's like that with my driving regardless (I really am not that bad), when lanes are barely wider than my hips (okay, bad example), let alone my fucking car, it's really, really, nervewracking. My knuckles looked like fat little snowflakes on my steering wheel last night when I went to see two bands you should check out--Dear Ulysses and The Peasantry (they even share members, isn't that precious?). They have the hardest working manager in the biz, too. I was glad to say that they were well worth the trek to Long Branch. The show was definitely more killer than the drive there, and well, that's a lot of killing. That's like Jack the Ripper (hi Spitalfield reference!) meets the Zodiac meets Catherine of friggin' Bathory, dude.

2. How cool would it be if it actually rained men?
This actually crossed my mind as I was driving and singing along to the sequel to this song (because everything on radio around here sucks more than a hundred Hoovers and Kirby's--except this guy, who owns your face), which features a cameo by RuPaul--amazing. But really--I would turn my umbrella upside down for sure. And I already jump in puddles, so this would be even more enjoyable. But how would they fall? Would they start out as little droplets and then grow upon hitting ground or what? Because if one is clumsy, this could be really dangerous and messy, too. A chance I'm willing to take, mind you. I'll pray for rises in humidity and drops in barometric pressure for as long as it takes... And invest in a really big bucket to keep outside, one which wouldn't attract West Nile and mosquitoes when left out overnight.

3. Why does the Court Tavern staff insist on keeping that hundred year old dirtbag at the door?
What a douche, seriously. I've encountered plenty of rude, bitter people in my life, but none that get paid to be as such (Elizabeth Hasselbeck not withstanding). Luckily, being a youngin', I didn't have to deal with him much when I went to see the Love Trilogy for drummer Ahmed's birthday. They had cool lighting effects and do one mean "Voodoo Chile" cover--and they're in Brunswick all the time, so check them out when you can. Also fun was getting a Big Bird cupcake shoved in my face that subsequently fell a bit further South. I was still picking yellow sprinkles out of my cleavage the next morning. All in a day's work.

4. How long is it going to take you to realize that this is my way of band product placement?
Wink wink, nudge nudge.


*By Jess, who reads propaganda like it's pulp fiction.

Somebody Call 911!!!

Former Baywatch star, Jeremy Jackson must have suffered brain damage while filming scenes in the ocean for all those years. It has apparently effected his ability to create good music.

Back in the day, I'll admit, I had a major crush on his character, Hobie. The episode with the music video, oh he was so dreamy.

Now, all that fake tanning really did something to him--he thinks he's black! Listen to the new song on his MySpace page. He raps about getting drunk and coked up. I think he should take his own advice and "pack it up."


Dude, the guy is so California gudio it's gross. But I did enjoy the expose Vanity Fair did on him a while back.
And he is still hot, but I like laughing at him better than looking at him.

*Joelle, who has seen every episode of Baywatch from DAY ONE!

Julie Andrews must be fuming.

There's a reason why I avoid Top-40 radio; reason being: It's generally garbage, with too few highlights (hi, AAR) in between commercials and commercialized pop trash to be worth listening to. Not improving this situation is an artist I once admired. Her name is Gwen Stefani.

While I understand that it's a common notion that ska is dead and her former outfit No Doubt evolved their sound, No Doubt's evolution was never really... Bad. The songwriting skill and effort were there. Their hearts were in it. The lyrics were--and remained--, though occasionally trite (enough about Tony Kanal already, seriously--you're married to someone eleventeen billion times better looking, and with a charming British accent to boot), inspired and honest. The vocals were strong and earnest. You believed Gwen was a frustrated almost-feminist in "Just a Girl." You believed she wanted to settle down and get married and be a homemaker in "Simple Kind of Life." You even believed that she wanted to keep dancing in the admittedly mediocre--and telling of things to come--"Hella Good." You believed she was really smitten in "Underneath It All," really torn in "Bathwater."

But how can you believe a thirty-something talking about fighting a beeyotch near the bleachers of a high school, a la the ever-irritating yet inexplicably overplayed "Hollaback Girl" of What You Waiting For (which, I should point out, is missing a verb)? Gwen alienated most of her purely musical, as opposed to image-based, fans with her solo debut, and she's only pushing us further away with her latest release, The Sweet Escape.

It's not that I don't like dance music. I do, quite a bit, and I find that Gwen could, would, and should be capable of creating some quality material with it. But she didn't before, and she hasn't started now. Her producers are quality (The Neptunes, Swizz Beats, and her former flame Tony Kanal, among others), her beats are decent--but her songwriting hasn't improved, and her choice of samples has gone straight to Hell: "Wind It Up" is an absolute disaster. What could have been kitschy, cute, and catchy is instead so unabashedly atrocious, annoying, and aggravating that I find it shouldn't even be played in solitary confinements for fear of ever-rising prisoner suicide rates.

The album's saving graces are Stefani's actual voice and her sense of humor, both of which are waning. The title track showcases both, with her catchy hook and blaming her emotional coldness on presumably Gavin's leaving the fridge door open. Not helping this song is the pointless Akon cameo, but this is the least of our worries. I'd rather have him around than those creepy nouveau-geishas, commonly called "Harajuku girls."

What's most disturbing about Gwen is that she pretty much admits she's after a quick buck merely three tracks in with "Orange County Girl," where she sings, "Don’t know what I’m doin’ back in the studio/Gettin’ greedy cause he said he had another sick flow ... I got the L.A.M.B. and he’s rockin’ the Ice Cream/Blend it together, something fresh and kinda in between/Writing down my feelings is something that I love/So I don’t really give a ****." In saying she only wants to express her feelings (which I can only imagine are pure materialism and scorn for eardrums everywhere), she first has to namedrop her fashion line that most of her young fans can't afford. Gwen is more concerned with style than substance. That works for her fashion shows, but it doesn't bode well for her live ones.


*By Jess, who now needs to be lobotomized.

Insert popular Death Cab song title here.

I usually never make resolutions, seeing as I'm more than aware that I have little self-control or discipline to keep up with them for more than three hours or so past midnight, but this year I want to try my hand at a few. Some of last year's worked out well (taking my vitamins, not running red lights because I'm not paying attention, and learning to bellydance and giftwrap--not simultaneously). This year, some are again more goals than resolutions, but nonetheless, here's my list:

1) Learn to cook.
I want to be able to eat things that don't require the use of a microwave or toaster oven. I want to be able to boil water without using a Pyrex and 60-second setting. I want to be competent, dammit. I already taught myself to bake recently, so I'm hoping this works out as well as that did. I make some killer cookies, dude, so maybe a try at lasagna won't be too traumatizing. I'm also a germaphobe, so I can pretty much guarantee you'll never get salmonella from my cooking.

2) Have more patience.
This is going to be so hard, because I have to go from having "none" to having quite a bit. Pray for me. I forget that not everyone understands the same things I do, just like how I don't understand when in my life, other than finals week, I'm going to need to know how to compose a parabola.

3) Accept that not everything is always going to be under my control.
Though I must admit, I think if everything were, the world would be running a lot more smoothly than it is now. But yeah. I think I'll be a lot less frustrated a lot less often if I can just relinquish my need to run things all the time.

4) Be more punctual.
I'm usually late for everything. I don't like this characteristic, but I think it stems more from my being easily distracted than from pure carelessness, because I'll be completely ready to go--and then Prince will come on, and I'll have to dance, and I wind up out the door eight minutes later than anticipated (if the song is "Purple Rain," that is).

5) Learn how to fly a plane.
My dad can do it. My brother Steve can do it. Why shouldn't I be able to? (Insert chauvinist remark here.)

6) Stop rationalizing poor behavior.
See my reasoning for my lack of promptness in number four? Yeah, that's got to go. So does my leniency toward certain people for their lacks of consideration. I'm not going to be all tacky-manners-police about it (because that's rude in spite of itself), but if, despite my sincerest attempts at resolution two, I lose my patience--expect a proverbial slap on the wrist if it happens too often.

7) Go skydiving.
Steve, are you paying attention?

8) Love my enemies.
Okay, okay, maybe I won't necessarily adore them, but I'm starting to humanize them a little more already. People are people. Not everyone has to like everyone (though I still don't understand why there aren't more Jets fans).

9) Stop friggin' procrastinating.
I was actually going to wait until January 1st to post this. I'm on my way.

10) Learn learn learn.
The prospects of my marrying rich are getting bleaker every day... I need to study a lot more.


*By Jess, who has a new addiction to cherry Hershey Kisses, and hopes you'll all help keep her on track for 2007.

He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake...

Really, how creepy is that notion?

I love Christmas, I really do. But as a child, the voyeuristic aspect of Saint Nick perturbed me a little. I'd always sit and think, "Is Santa watching me tinkle? Wouldn't that make him naughty--a pedophile, even--and therefore a hypocrite?" Obviously, my soliloquies would've been worded a bit differently when I was five, but you get my drift.

I'd also wonder, since he was always watching, if he could read minds too. Because sometimes, actions that would presumably place one on the "naughty" list had the very nicest of intentions (perhaps why the road to Hell is paved as such). When I knocked out Marcus on the playground? That was because he kicked a soccer ball right in my face, dude. I was just teaching him a lesson, and I really didn't mean to punch him that hard. All the times I was less than polite to telemarketers? They called during dinner time, and I'm Italian. We don't like being interrupted when food is in front of us.

My pondering intensified when, at six years old, my parents took my brother and me to the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. It was a fine show, no doubt, but the Santa in the lobby? His beard fell off. When I paired this potentially damaging visual with the observation I'd made that his handwriting on the gifttags was eerily similar to my mom's, I was absolutely devastated. I attempted to launch a miniature coup d'etat with nearby children until he reaffixed his facial tufts (I could still see the adhesive) and my parents, hawk eyes that they had, steered me towards the exit before I could make a scene.

I knew that lying was naughty and that I should tell the truth to the other kids (the same mode of thinking ironically almost got me kicked out of Sunday school a few years later, but that's another entry entirely), but the look in that Santa's eyes broke my heart. He looked frightened of the little girl with pigtails and her front teeth missing who barely came up to the red velvet knee she sat upon. I felt sorry for him.

This put me in a bit of a moral dilemma: I could be an honest, upstanding child and break the news to the rest of my kindergarten class--or I could keep the secret, and the magic, alive. I chose the latter, mostly because I didn't want to ruin anyone's holiday--and also for own smug ego, so that a few years later when they came to their realizations on their own, I could sit and think to myself, "Old news!"

The moral of the story? "Naughty" and "nice" are subjective. This year, do what feels right.

For me, that'd be Lenny Kravitz.


Merry Christmas.

*By Jess, who really likes the carol "The Little Drummer Boy," for a few reasons... A ruh-pum-pum-pum!

Current Addictions

1. THE RASMUS: I got their first CD way back in my college days when I was an editor at the school paper. Having seen pictures of them all over UK magazines, I ripped open that CD in a sea of excitement. And I think I hated it. I sure can't remember it, so it obviously didn't grab me then. BUT I LOVE the new CD, Hide From the Sun. I think I like them better then their fellow Finland natives, HIM (calm down, I like HIM, but they can get kinda boring). This is a good CD to make out or sway to, sing along with, and simply listen to while trying to figure out what's up with the vocalist's hair.

2. KILL HANNAH: Their name had me at hello, their pictures showed me they had style and their tour dates (opening tours for Lostprophets in the US and Shiny Toy Guns in the UK) convinced me to check them out. And although the vocals took a bit getting used to, they eventually are what won me over. These songs are like sugar. Once you get them in your system you want more. more. more! Oh, and did I mention they have way hot merch? Skirts! I'll leave you with that.

*By Joelle, who will be interviewing Kill Hannah in January!!!!

the next 12 months....

...i want to see a new picture of Mickdeth every month. Because he is just THAT COOL, the Eighteen Visions bassist has his own calendar. It goes quite well with his new clothing company, Dethless, that is expected to launch in January. 18 V are one of my favorite bands to photograph, 98 percent because of Mickdeth. He is such a ham, but not in a corny way. He knows how to put on a show and give the crowd what they want. Plus, he is tattooed and straight-edge and a role model for all who aspire to be sober, colorful, and modeling while covered in fake blood. OK? Check it. www.myspace.com/mickdeth.

*By Joelle, who should go to bed now because she obviously is rambling and corny.

New Brunswick gets a heavy friggin' dose rock n' roll (and vivacity!)

There are few bands in this world worth an hour-plus stint of hiding in a cramped, cobwebbed, minimally sanitary public restroom stall for.

(Think I'm lying? I played tic-tac-toe on the wall to keep entertained. This was the first game I've won in a while, and I think my opponent just gave me a mercy victory anyway:)




Two such bands are Perfuma,

who debuted their supertall new bassist, Tucker (formerly of the Pennyroyals),

and Hero Pattern, who, as usual, owned the audience (and were quite guyvacious, which is like "vivacious," only without the feminine gender bias):

While I'm on the subject of "guyvacity," I would like to say that the man exiting the women's restroom last night as I was entering not only confused the daylights out of me, but also left the seat up and didn't flush. One of the three offenses is permissible, but gimme a break, dude. I don't know who this fellow was, but if he is reading this, I hope he knows that is repulsive, rude, and subject to castration herein.

Oh yeah, I went there.

*By Jess, who is grateful for the free Shirley Temple granted to her last night, and who is working on six hours of sleep in the last three days and therefore apologizes for a probable lack of coherence in this entry.

Wide eyed, alive

I really, really, really love The Junior Varsity. Their keyboardist, Nick Dodson, may very well be the sweetest guy in the world. So sweet, in fact, that my cohort Ashley and I took it literally and made the band brownies for their show tonight:

Aren't they festive and scrumptious looking? And check out my girl's color coordination. Good thing I didn't wear gray too, as I'd originally planned, otherwise we'd look like two cracked out Betty Crockers.

Not pictured: Me, because I was/am having a bad hair day.

However, our baked goods made us the absolute most popular women to ever step foot in the School of Rock.

Seriously girls, if you want a surefire way to have a hefty collection of phone numbers at the end of an evening out--just bring some sort of cake.

Okay, okay, being cute helps too.


*By Jess, who seriously only bakes for Junior Varsity shows, though if John Mayer asked for a pie, she'd probably oblige

Help our friends out!

Vote for Spitalfield here!
http://www.mtvu.com/music/freshmen/
They really deserve this and you can vote as many times as you want.


AND! Vote for the Jets here (or whoever, it's for charity so I won't get too mad at you):
http://chunky.com/clickforcansvote.aspx


*By Jess, who had a dream about the Junior Varsity last night and is looking forward to seeing them this weekend

Meet Scott and Aimee

and then read why we love them in the post below!

Got the urge to splurge?

Admit it, it's happened to you. It's happened to the best of us. You're out holiday shopping for friends and family and end up spending half your paycheck on yourself. After all, it was on sale/cheap/there was only one left/you had a bad week and deserve it, etc. And that's just shopping retail. Now onto the Internet and an album you need to buy off it.

You suffered all year long listening to disapointing releases and the same 'ol boring songs on the radio. You owe it to yourself to hear something invigorating. Something that hasn't been done so well since Sonny and Cher. The most romantic unromantic, inspiring and sexy sounds to come from, well, anyone.



Meet Scott and Aimee. Fall in love. They did. You deserve it.

The story goes like a little like this: Scott Russo gained major musical cred fronting the legendary punk-turned-rock band, Unwritten Law. He's known as the "bad boy," with a rep for doing naughty things like lighting up midset while performing onstage at the smoke-free CBGBs (RIP) and pissing off the soundman to the point where he shut the lights off on the band. Meanwhile, Aimee Allen is making a name for herself as a solo artist and scores a gig opening up for Unwritten Law on tour. Aimee met Scott and soon her name was etched into his guitar as "Scott Loves Aimee." Sparks flew and a beautiful side project was born soon after. And boy does it have attitude!

"Scott and Aimee Sitting in a Tree," is their debut album. But don't expect lovely dovey songs here. We'll leave the puke indusing tunes to Jessica Simpson and whoeverher father cons into marrying her next.

Scott and Aimee have lived life on the edge and survived to write about it. Their personalities shine through and capture listeners. With the chorus "I don't want to be your Miss America, I won't be your queen for just one day," the song "Miss America" is an anthem for young women everywhere. Not since Alanis back in '95 has a women singer taken such a powerful stand for womenkind as Aimee Allen. Girls, take notes. Songs like "I'm Not Your Girlfriend," suggest fucking for the fun of it (Sex and The City anyone?) and "Girl With Issues" should help all those little emo girls from slicing their wrists once they see what real pain is.

With various musical styles, from hard rockin' "Good Times" and "Kiss the Gun" to reggae infused "Southern California Kind of Love" and the acoustic "Too Fucked Up (To Be in Love)," the pair are packing in venues, drawing 500 Cali kids (and Mr. Kid Rock and Pamela to shows, but that's another media frenzy). Those of us out East are deprived for now, but at least we have the CD and some really cool merch to get by.

Listen to them here: www.myspace.com/scottandaimee


*By Joelle, who doesn't really like female singers but has a non-lesbian crush on Aimee and has loved Unwritten Law ever since she heard "Teenage Suicide" on a surfing video and listens to "Sitting in a Tree" nonstop.

All I want for Christmas (besides you, dear reader) is an end to shitty musical nepotism.

I'm not talking the father-son kind (because really, Bob Dylan's spawn did well with The Wallflowers, and Sean Lennon's new work is pretty damn good). I'm talking the sibling variety.

First we had Aaron Carter riding the coattails of his Backstreet Boy older brother, Nick. In an orange jumpsuit. And chains. On a trampoline. How utterly gangster, and I say that with an "er" instead of an "a" at the end deliberately.

Soon, we had the Duff sisters (Hilary, who hints occasionally that Aaron Carter actually inspired the hit "So Yesterday," despite her not really writing it), butchering my two favorite songs by two of my favorite bands of all time, The Go-Gos and Blondie. I feel that whoever allowed this to happen should be sent to Abu Ghraib. No paycheck is worth that humiliation. Oh, and speaking of "So Yesterday," I'd like to reiterate a lyric from that for you guys, only because I have to hear it at work every day: "If the light is off, then it isn't on." No shit, sister. The lightbulbs in your overpaid lyricist's heads must have been dimmed to the point of darkness to come up with such inane garbage.

Then we had the Simpson sisters trying to sing. As if Jessica weren't bad enough with her alternately wailing-whispering-hacking (I'm quite ashamed to have her as a namesake), we decided that we wanted more complete and total shit on radio, so we give her gravelly-"voiced" sister a record deal, and she winds up selling even more albums than Jessica ever did despite her ability to vocalize anything besides publicist-bullshit-diatribe (acid reflux my patootie) live being more than a little questionable.

And now, my friends?

Lindsay Lohan's little sister, Ali, is releasing a Christmas album.

If someone would give me a taser as a stocking stuffer, I'd put an end to this insanity.


*By Jess, who is happy that the Jets won today.